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Behold the path he trod,
“Prepare to meet thy God."
SHALL man, to sordid views confined,
His powers unfold,
In search of gold ?
Thy ceaseless toil ?
Lest in the broil
Fraught with disease to-morrow comes,
And bows thy head;
Thy thoughts recede :
And more secure;
Content and peace, the mind's best health,
And thoughts all pure; And deeds benevolent, and prayer, and praise, And deep submission to Heaven's righteous ways.
SONNET ON THE SABBATH MORN.
With silent awe I hail the sacred morn,
That scarcely wakes when all the fields are stili; A soothing calm on every breeze is borne,
A graver murmur gurgles from the rill, And echo answers softer from the hill;
And softer sings the linnet on the thorn ; The sky-lark warbles in a tone less shrill —
Hail, light serene! hail, sacred Sabbath morn!
The sky a placid yellow lustre throws;
Have hush'd their downy wings in soft repose : The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move
So soft the morning when the Savior rose !
THE LILY, AN EMBLEM OF CHRISTIAN
How wither'd, faded, seems the form
Of yon obscure, unsightly root!
It hides secure the precious root.
The careless eye can find no grace,
No beauty in the scaly folds; Nor see, within the dark embrace,
What latent loveliness it holds.
Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
The lily wraps her silver vest, Till vernal suns and vernal gales
Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast. Yes! hide beneath the mouldering heap
The undelighting, slighted thing; There, in the cold earth, buried deep,
In silence let it wait the spring. 0! many a stormy night shall close
In gloom upon the barren earth; While still, in undisturb'd repose,
Uninjured lies the future birth. And Ignorance, with sceptic eye,
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view, Or mark her fond credulity,
As her soft tears the spot bedew. Sweet smile of Hope ! delicious tear!
The sun, the shower, indeed shall come; The promis’d verdant shoot appear,
And nature bid her blossom bloom, And thou, O virgin queen of spring,
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed, Bursting thy green sheath's silken string,
Unveil thy charms, thy perfume shed:
Unfold thy robes of purest white,
Unsullied, from their darksome grave;
In the mild breeze unfetter'd wave.
Where humble sorrow loves to lie;
And watch with patient, cheerful eye;
And bear her own degraded doom ;
Eternal spring ! shall burst the gloom.
THE FLYING FISH,
WHEN I have seen thy snowy wing
But when I see that wing so bright
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
A MOTHER's Love,-how sweet the name!
What is a Mother's Love?
Enkindled from above,
This is a Mother's Love.